


love like ghosts

by myloveiamthespeedofsound



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myloveiamthespeedofsound/pseuds/myloveiamthespeedofsound
Summary: prompto patches up gladio after a particularly bad day





	love like ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Just You and Me Baby Zine which can be found [here](https://justyouandmezine.tumblr.com/post/183646228598/the-zine-is-live). It's free so go check out all the other great works in it!

 

If someone were to ask him point blank just the hell how he'd managed to cart Gladio's ridiculously large frame halfway across the desert and back to Hammerhead without a) collapsing into a giant, awkward mess of a heap or b) just straight up dying on the way, Prompto wouldn't have the first clue. Just that somehow, somewhere, he'd dug in and  _ done it _ because it needed to be done. Gladio a bloody mess when he'd finally tracked him down in the darkness. Bleeding profusely from a gash on his side and some other cuts and scrapes on his face and gods knew where else. Dead man walking more than anything and while Prompto had braced himself for bad after getting the rundown of what Gladio had run off without backup to take out, this was even beyond what he expected.    
  
As they approached the gate, the two guards on duty immediately opened up and rushed to help Prompto get Gladio inside. 

"The caravan free?" Prompto asked through gritted teeth, not that he really cared. He was going that way regardless. 

"I'll help," a familiar voice called out as he approached and Prompto glanced up to see a hunter, Cyrus. 

"Don't suppose the supply runs' come back yet," Prompto said as Cyrus took up Gladio's other side and they started hauling him toward the caravan. A few mishaps here and there and Hammerhead was woefully understocked with nary a potion to their name.  Seemed when tragedy rained, it poured. After all, Hammerhead wasn't Lestallum, they were the outer edges of a world gone to hell. The no man's land where life and death swung a hell of a lot more heavily to the death end. 

"Due back tomorrow," Cyrus answered. 

Which meant if they were going to get Gladio to tomorrow, they were going to have to do it the old fashioned way. 

Prompto and Cyrus managed to get Gladio into the caravan, the larger man barely responsive to being moved around. Prompto pushed the table to one side and they set Gladio down on the bench seat, careful of the profusely bleeding wound on his side. "Shit, shit, shit," Prompto muttered under his breath as he tried to pull Gladio's shirt off, wincing himself as it stuck to bits of dried blood. Eventually he worked it off and Prompto nearly gagged at the gash underneath. 

"We need to stop the bleeding right now," Cyrus declared as he got a look himself. 

"I know," Prompto snapped, he'd feel bad about it later but right then the fact Gladio was literally bleeding out kept him from thinking too hard on it. He haphazardly pulled on drawers in the caravan's tiny kitchen, forgetting where the fuck they kept any knives. It was the fourth he tried that proved fruitful. With one hand Prompto turned the burner of the stove on and pulled out a large chef's knife from the drawer with his other. He jammed the knife in between the coils of the burner, gnawing on his lower lip as he waited for the knife to heat. Gladio could very well die right then and there. A sobering thought that wormed its way into every inch of Prompto's body. Laced with fear, anxiety, the fear of leaving all the things they'd left unsaid just that. Unsaid. 

No, he decided. Gladio was not going to die. Not there, not then. Because he wasn't going to  _ let _ Gladio die.  
  
Prompto wrapped his hand in a towel and pulled the knife out by the handle. Now that the task was in front of him his movements were careful. Deliberate and focused and a far cry from the franticness of before. Lips pressed together he let his gaze fall to the wound on Gladio's side again. The tip cut through where his tattoo began and Prompto loathed to desecrate the mark. But the alternative was worse. 

"Hey, Big Guy?" Prompto started, surprised at just how steady his voice sounded then when he felt anything but. Gladio grunted in reply, his head rolled to the side. "I need you to look at me," Prompto guided and he smiled tightly when Gladio's eyes found his own. This was bad, he couldn't help but think, seeing the unfocused and glazed look in Gladio's eyes. "That's good," Prompto encouraged. "This is gonna sting," he forewarned.

And it was the smell that hit him first. The overwhelming scent of  _ burning _ as he pressed the flat of the blade to Gladio's wound. The cry was next. A low, guttural and almost  _ inhuman  _ noise as Gladio responded to the pain. Prompto quickly pulled the knife back and then pressed again. Quick little one second bursts, like the hunters had told him how to. Enough to close the wound but never too much as to do worse damage. And despite that Gladio had stopped looking at him, Prompto kept his own gaze steady on Gladio. His own gaze watery with the tears that had collected at having to cause  _ this _ much pain to Gladio, even if it was in the name of saving his life.   
  
There was a brief moment where Gladio's gaze settled back on Prompto's. Still that same worrisome glazed over look, but  _ there _ . A brief flicker of  _ something _ before Gladio's eyes rolled back and he slumped even more in the chair. A blessing Prompto figured. 

His hand shaking now, Prompto dropped the knife into the sink, the clatter almost deafening in the silence that had fallen after Gladio passed out. The smell still permeated the small caravan space and Prompto found himself gagging on it and he barely made it to the bathroom to fall on his knees in front of the toilet before he heaved up what little was in his stomach. Blindly he pawed at the flush handle and rolled onto his back with a groan.

"Prompto?" Cyrus called from the door, concern evident in his tone.

"I'm okay," Prompto replied weakly and pushed himself first to his knees and then to feet. There was mouthwash on the counter and he swirled a generous amount around in his mouth, spat it out and rinsed off his face. Get it together, he chided himself. "Who's the big bad demon hunter now," he asked rhetorically, a hint of self deprecation to the words as he caught the the other man's eyes in the mirror. Years into the darkness and Prompto still felt like he was playing catch up somehow. Too soft still, too easy to rattle. Maybe he always would be. 

"You are," Cyrus repiled, his gaze softening as he looked at Prompto. 

Prompto felt his stomach turn again, although for an entirely different reason this time. Nothing to do with the scene of burned flesh and the memory of Gladio's animalistic cries - but everything to do with the man staring at him, who wanted parts of Prompto that Prompto no longer had to give. Parts that had been given so freely years ago now to the man passed out at the table, parts that Prompto had never quite been sure how to  _ get back _ . Or if he even wanted to. Prompto bit at his lower lip and busied himself with setting about finding something to clean up and wrap Gladio's cauterized wound best he could to tide it over until better supplies came in the next day. 

Back in the main part of the caravan Prompto set the supplies down on the table beside Gladio. He was still out cold and Prompto felt for his pulse - steady thank the gods. He took a moment, self indulgence disguised as helpfulness, and brushed some of Gladio's hair off his face. The strands had gotten longer over the years, just like his own. The only thing they had to mark the passage of time in a world gone dark.   
  
A grunt and Prompto pulled his hand back quickly. Gladio's eyes slowly opened, gaze still unfocused as he took in Prompto. "Hey baby," Gladio slurred, soft adoration in his eyes and it was very clear he wasn't exactly  _ in _ the present moment.   
  
Prompto smiled tightly, swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat the old pet name brought up and allowed himself to resume pushing Gladio's hair out of his eyes. "You scared the shit out of me," he admitted quietly and watched as the pieces started to fall into place for Gladio. And as that soft look fell from Gladio's gaze, so did Prompto's hand. They weren't those people. Not anymore.

"Sorry," Gladio grunted in reply, a wince as he tried to move and Prompto put a hand on his shoulder to keep him still.   
  
"Don't move," Prompto instructed and got up. He moved to where Cyrus lingered by the caravan door and shrugged a little. "Thanks - for your help," he said. "I think I've got it from here." While he appreciated the support, having him there was just adding more complication than Prompto knew he could handle right then.

"You sure?" Cyrus asked as he lifted a hand to cup the side of Prompto's face. 

Prompto nodded, turning somewhat out of the touch as a ball of anxiety settled into the pit of his stomach. From behind him he could hear the laboured breathing of Gladio, clearly in pain but  _ alive _ . "Yeah, we'll be fine," he assured Cyrus, well aware that wasn't exactly what had been asked. 

Cyrus nodded, turned and exited the camper. 

Prompto grabbed the supplies he had found - some gauze and a half empty bottle of gin - from the counter and set them on the table before he sat on the edge of it in front of Gladio. "You good, Big Guy?" he asked as he started to upcap the gin.

"Been better," Gladio huffed, amber gaze - just a bit too bright, worrisome really - on Prompto.

"This is going to sting," he forewarned once more and he offered the bottle to Gladio, a silent question if he wanted a swig before Prompto used it on the wound.

"You keep saying that," Gladio tried to joke though it fell flat. He nodded though and Prompto helped him to take a generous drink for the bottle.  Prompto then tipped the bottle over Gladio's cauterized wound, letting the liquid run over it and trying - in vain - to block out the pained hiss Gladio let out.

"Starting to think maybe you're getting a kick out of this," Gladio said as the sting subsided, again the attempt falling short of being an actual joke. "Wouldn't blame you," he added softly, regret heavy in his tone.    
  
They fell into a silence - not quite awkward, but not exactly comfortable either - as Prompto started to tape a piece of gauze over the wound.   
  
"So, friend of yours?" Gladio broke after a few long minutes. 

"Hm?" Prompto asked as his gaze lifted. 

"That guy - he a friend of yours?" Gladio repeated, his tone almost alarmingly even.

"Something like that," Prompto answered and dropped his gaze back down to his work.

"Boyfriend?" Gladio tried again, that same evenness to the word.

"No," Prompto replied, almost curtly.

"Why not?" was the responding question.

Prompto finished taping the gauze and lifted his gaze. He shook his head a little as he looked down at Gladio. "You know why," he answered as his hand lingered against Gladio's torso, his heart suddenly beating wildly against his chest. 

"Prom…" Gladio started softly, a hand moving to rest on Prompto's knee.

"Don't," Prompto cut him off. 

Gladio quieted, but didn't move his hand. Nor did Prompto. Silence filled the caravan once more, their slow and steady breaths the only sound.

"You really scared me," Prompto said again, his voice small and quiet. The words somehow more weighted now that some clarity had eased back into Gladio's gaze. Now that the worst of it was over. Now that adrenaline had lifted and all that was left were the very big  _ what if's _ . The very real  _ maybe you won't be so lucky next time's. _   
  
Gladio's other hand lifted, cupped Prompto's face and that was a touch that Prompto turned into instead of turning away from. Because he always was a sucker this. These quiet moments when they forgot themselves, forgot the weight of the world on their shoulders and all the reasons they'd had for ending this before it had ever really began. The moments they could just…  _ be _ . When it somehow felt like nothing had changed even though  _ everything _ had changed. Gladio's thumb brushed against his cheekbone and Prompto sighed softly, eyes closing for a moment.   
  
Careful of the wound on Gladio's side, Prompto put a knee on either side of him and moved off the table into Gladio's lap. He tucked his head under Gladio's chin and exhaled as he felt those big arms wrap around him. The caravan echoed with the ghosts of the past, of stolen moments on a roadtrip. Of the people they had once been. Dancing and fumbling around the feelings that had grown between them. The feelings that really, hadn't gone  _ anywhere _ just because they had decided the end of the world wasn't a good time to give into them.

"You're an idiot," Prompto mumbled after a moment. An idiot for nearly getting himself killed, an idiot for running off, an idiot for thinking there was anywhere else,  _ anyone  _ else Prompto would rather be with.

Gladio sighed a soft laugh and tightened his grip. "So I've been told." 

Prompto knew he could stay there all night, listen to Gladio's heart thud away in his chest and remind him with every beat that Gladio was  _ alive _ , that they were  _ okay.  _ That even if things were so screwed up between them it wasn't so broken that they still couldn't have  _ this.  _ But the cramped bench seat was just that, cramped. And Gladio needed to recoup. "You should get some rest," he said reluctantly after a few indulgent minutes.    
  
"Yeah…" Gladio agreed, but made no move to do so. If anything his grip on Prompto got tighter and Prompto could feel a soft kiss pressed to the top of his head.    
  
Prompto gently pried himself out of Gladio's embrace and offered a hand to help him stand. Hand in Gladio's he led the other man back towards the bed in the caravan. He kicked off his own boots as they approached and peeled off his jacket to drop to the ground before he flopped into the mattress. Another lifetime ago the threadbare sheets and lumpy mattress had been just a small fraction above the hard ground of camping and a far cry from the nights they'd scraped together enough for the Leville. But now it felt like a small slice of heaven compared to his air mattress in the back of the shop.    
  
The wood frame under the mattress creaked as Gladio sat down. Prompto heard the thud of Gladio's boots hitting the floor and then another creak as he settled to lay down on his uninjured side. Prompto shifted onto his back and stared up at the water spot in the ceiling. It was funny, he couldn't help but think, all the versions of them that had existed in this bed over the years. The nights they'd won the rights to it, a respectable distance between them. The nights that distance had started to ease away as they spent more and more time in each other's pockets. As they fell a little bit harder. The afternoons they'd managed to sneak away to get lost in each other while Ignis and Noctis talked with Cindy and Cid. And whatever they were now.

Exes didn't seem right. You had to stop occasionally sleeping with someone for it to be an ex. You couldn't still  _ be in love with them _ . And besides, could it be an ex if they had never officially been what came before. 

"Hey, Prom?" Gladio asked, voice gruff, pulling Prompto from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Prompto replied and turned on his side to face Gladio's back.   
  
"Thanks - for saving my life," Gladio answered. 

Prompto smiled a little in the dark and shuffled in close. He threaded his arm under Gladio's, careful to keep higher and avoid the wound. His hand pressed flat against Gladio's chest and tangled his legs in with Gladio's.  _ Who says I can be the big spoon _ Prompto could still remember asking early on when all their flirting, the little touches, the lingering looks had all started to become something  _ more. _   
  
"You're welcome." Prompto said, words muffled by nuzzling his face into Gladio's back. Tomorrow they'd go back to distance and heartache. But right then, well, right then Prompto was content to give into this quiet little moment. If only for a night.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr!](http://downrightfierce.tumblr.com/)


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